


choose your words 'cause there's no antidote

by starkidpatronus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Arthur Pendragon Returns, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Merthur 10 Years, POV Arthur, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkidpatronus/pseuds/starkidpatronus
Summary: And I've been praying, I never did before.Understand I'm talking to the walls.





	choose your words 'cause there's no antidote

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Merlin/Arthur 10 Years Event at merthurdaily.tumblr.com! Day 2: Lyrics. This fic was written directly from the inspiration in the summary. Those lyrics come from the song "Ever Since New York" by Harry Styles. So do the lyrics in the title.

                Merlin has never prayed. He’s never seen the point in trying. But it’s been over one thousand five hundred years since he’s seen Arthur, and Merlin is so tired.

                So he tries it out. He isn’t really sure how to. He tries kneeling, since he’s seen others do that, but it doesn’t feel right, so he stands back up. That feels wrong too, though, so he settles for sitting down in his armchair. He folds his hands in his lap and closes his eyes.

                And he laughs at himself.

                How is he supposed to pray? To what god can a man like him pray? He can command the rhythms of the earth; what could possibly be above him? He has nothing to which he can pray.

                _You know who to pray to_ , a voice in his head says. _You’ve been doing it all this time_.

                He sighs; the voice, which is his own from a time long ago when he was much younger, is right. He has been praying all along, in a way. It’s a bit pathetic. But what else is he to do? Wait aimlessly?

                Resolutely, he closes his eyes again.

                “Arthur,” he says. “I miss you. I miss you more than you can know. Or, maybe you do know. I’m sorry if you know. I’m sorry I failed you. I hope you’re doing well. If you’re going to come back, please make it soon. I don’t know when Albion’s need will be greatest, but…mine is. I need you. Thank you, amen.”

                It feels weirdly formal, but cleansing in a way. Like it’s gained more weight now.

                When he opens his eyes, he is still alone. Not that he’d expected anything else. Hoped for it, maybe, but—no. No, all Merlin has now is these four walls. His best company.

                He sighs and rises from his chair, ambles over to his kitchenette to brew a cup of tea. He makes two. He always does. Just in case Arthur wants one when he comes back.

                For the first time, it occurs to Merlin that he doesn’t know how Arthur likes his tea. If Arthur will even like tea. And for some reason, that just breaks him.

                In the middle of his tiny flat, he heaves with sobs. All of it comes crashing down on top of him. He knows so much of the world now, but he knows nothing of how Arthur will take it. Has no idea how he will tell Arthur about the world now. Where he will even start. If Arthur will even want to learn.

                “Please come back,” he whispers with all his might, eyes squeezed shut. “Please. I’m begging. I need you so—so desperately.”

                He keeps his eyes closed as the tears fall down his cheeks, keeps crying and crying and crying. He just can’t seem to stop.

                Until a gentle hand brushes the tears from his face.

                Merlin’s eyes shoot open; he knows this hand, knows it so well. And so he is unsurprised to see piercing blue eyes staring back at him.

                “Hey there, dollophead.” Arthur gives him his signature grin. “‘Been a while.”

                Merlin just stares. There are so many things, _so many things_ , he wants to say right now, starting with _I love you, please never leave again, I need you, I love you, I love you, I bloody_ love _you_.

                But nothing comes out. Merlin just keeps staring.

                Arthur picks up a cup of tea by its handle and peers at the liquid. Brow furrowed, he asks, “What is this?”

                “Tea,” Merlin chokes out. “Breakfast tea.”

                “You’re having breakfast?”

                “No.”

                “Then why—Oh!”

                Merlin throws his arms around Arthur, holding him as tight as possible. He manages to knock the cup out of Arthur’s hand so that it falls on the ground with a clatter, spilling now-cold tea everywhere. Neither of them cares. Arthur hugs Merlin back just as fiercely, stroking his hair and whispering that it’s okay, it’s okay now, he’s here and he’s not leaving.

                “I missed you,” Merlin whispers, “so much. I felt it every day, this—this gap in my heart, I—”

                “I know,” Arthur breathes back. “It was the same for me. It was like I was missing a piece of myself.”

                “Two sides of the same coin,” Merlin says with a laugh, though he’s not sure what he’s laughing at.

                “Right,” Arthur says, laughing a little himself. Merlin is still in Arthur’s arms, but now he’s staring again, so Arthur asks, “What?”

                “You look the same,” Merlin observes, still staring as he reaches a hand up to touch Arthur’s face. The same blue eyes, the same gold hair, the same smile. He’s even wearing the same armor and cape. The same everything. It’s like not a day has passed.

                Arthur clears his throat, looks Merlin up and down, and replies, “You look pretty different.”

                For a moment, Merlin doesn’t even realize what Arthur means; Merlin has been this way for so long, it doesn’t even register anymore. Then he looks down and notices his own appearance as an old man. “Right,” he says. “One sec.” He steps away from Arthur, closes his eyes, and changes back to his old form—the Merlin that Arthur knew in Camelot. He opens his eyes again and smiles. “Better?”

                “Much,” Arthur says with a nod. He looks down at the destroyed cup and spilled tea at his feet. “I should—probably clean that up.”

                “Later,” Merlin declares, and he’s pulling Arthur in by the back of his neck for the kiss for which they’ve waited for so long. Too long. But it’s worth it, _God_ , is it worth it. Arthur’s lips finally on his, Arthur’s hands finally on his waist, Arthur filling up every one of his senses, Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur_. It’s worth the wait. It’s worth everything.

                Merlin never wants to stop, but eventually, they both have to pull away for air. Both breathing hard, they’re smiling, foreheads tipped together. For a moment, neither says a word. Then, Arthur says, “I never even got to try the tea.”

                Merlin laughs in spite of himself. “We’ll get there.”

                Praying, perhaps, may not be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Be sure to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! I can be reached at thewriternotthemuse.tumblr.com if you have any requests or questions. <3


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